


Free

by writesthrice



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: I'm clearly losing my mind, M/M, Rather fluffy, comforting!Vaas, no porn?, sad!Jason, the fuck is this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:45:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writesthrice/pseuds/writesthrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason catches wind of a rumor that Vaas is dead - he is compelled by things half-admitted to go and see for himself, heart in his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free

Jason sat beside Vaas, watching him sleep. The pirate was shirtless, covered to mid-stomach with a thin sheet, curled on one side, one arm under his pillow, the other resting close to his body. White bandages were stark against his skin, wrapping around his shoulder and down, partly over his chest, the maroon of dried blood a jarring sight in the crisp fabric. Jason had heard that Vaas was dead, and came to see for himself, heart in his throat and beginning to accept why.

The American had walked into camp unannounced, and went unchallenged, if not unnoticed. The pirates had paced nervously, hands on guns, watching and waiting, wary and expectant. They all knew why he was there, but feared an attack anyway. Carlos, ever unflappable, had met him in the middle of the camp and led him straight here, no questions asked. And here he was. Watching a psychopath sleep. His fingers twitched, and he didn’t bother to stifle the impulse to touch, relief blurring the boundaries of what he deemed okay; he ran his hand into Vaas’s mohawk, pleasantly surprised by how soft it was, threading the thickness of the pirate’s hair between his fingers.

A hand of iron strength snatched his fingers away, grip squeezing his wrist until he could barely feel it. Jason gritted his teeth, staring down into Vaas’s dark eyes. “Let me go!” He snarled, snapping into anger at default.

Vaas frowned, confusion making his eyes darker, and Jason realized that the pirate was _very_ high. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Vaas. It’s Jason. Let me go.” He put on his best calm voice, his other hand tugging at the pirate’s grip.

“Jason?” Vaas’s gaze sharpened, and he lessened his grip, but did not let go. “Why are you here, hermano?”

The American shook his head, then sighed, “I heard you were dead. I had to … know.” He shrugged, trying to pull away. The pirate let him go, carefully pulling himself into a sitting position, grimacing at the pain in his chest and shoulder, only swaying a little.

“It’ll take more than a few bullets to kill me, hermano. You know this.” Vaas’s eyes were a little more focused; remarkably, he seemed to have come easily back into there here and now out of his free-floating.

Jason leaned forward again, once again invading Vaas’s space without thought. He peeled away the bandages to look under them, then whistled softly. The pirate glanced down at the wounds, then shrugged his uninjured shoulder. Blood was slipping down his body from four separate bullet wounds, reopened by his abrupt movements, ranging from shoulder to near his neck. “Just a few more scars, eh, Brody? Nothing new to me.” Absently, his fingers came up, brushing against a thick scar just to the side of his heart, Jason’s own notable contribution to Vaas’s scars.

Jason gently replaced the bandages, leaving his hand to press against the wounds to help stem the bleeding. “What happened?” His voice was as gentle as his touch.

Vaas caught Jason’s hand and pulled him close with a rough jerk, more or less into his lap. He pressed his face into the American’s chest, inhaling deeply. “I got shot,” he murmured, voice muffled. “It’s fucking stupid: all I could think was how pissed you’d be.”

Jason actually laughed, unsettled as he was by Vaas’s arms wrapped around his waist, by the warm breath brushing his chest. “Yeah. I was,” he admitted with a softer chuckle. His hands came up without his consent, once more tangling fingers in that dark mohawk, exploring the bones of the pirate’s skull, the raised scar so prominently displayed, fingertips tracing the cup of an ear, the slope of neck.

“Vaas.” Jason whispered the name, lowering his cheek to the pirate’s forehead. He was shaking. “I thought you were dead,” his voice was tight and tiny, a dark secret spilled as painfully as blood. “I was …” The American’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to find a word to describe those long hours it had taken him to get here, alternating between terror and anger, regret burning him inside out until he was ashes, hope hurting more than anything else.

Vaas saved him from having to describe it. “Shut up.” He sounded weary. “I know, idiot. I know.” He leaned closer, cheek resting against Jason’s, a gentle sigh trailing light as touch across his neck. “You forget, I’ve had to hear about your death a hundred times. It’s not easy, hearing you got stabbed or shot or mauled. At least you know where I am. You? You’re a ghost, here or there. Who the fuck knows where to find the great and mysterious Snow White? I have to sit around feeling like shit and puke in the same hole until you show back up to fuck up my plans and put a smile on my face.”

And he was smiling, a gentle thing that softened the lines of his face. Jason’s hand dipped down, thumb trailing along Vaas’s full lower lip. He wanted to taste those lips, flick them with his tongue, but before he could get around to articulating it, Vaas had leaned forward and taken control, his mouth gentle and reverent, hands tightening around Jason’s back.

Jason didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the tears drip from his face. Vaas pulled him closer, gently tugged him fully into the bed so they were lying side by side, the American tucked protectively into the strength of the pirate’s arms.

He didn’t bother explaining, and Vaas knew anyway. I am you, and you are me. He’d told Jason a long time ago exactly what Jason was feeling now. Two halves, cracked and pitted with scars, but they fit together better than the edges of the sky. They’d both been stripped down and built up by this fucking island, and they were the masters and slaves of it, owned it by the sweat and blood of their bodies, were owned by it in the soil where they buried their pasts.

Jason’s tears were for that past, the life he’d left and the friends he’d abandoned, and for the hard-edged future before him, painted in shades of blood. The tears felt cleansing, washing away uncertainties and regrets. When they stopped, he felt whole for the first time in a long time. No more what ifs clouded his mind, made him second guess himself, and he was sure of the path he would lay his feet on.

Vaas’s voice was a soft caress of promise against his skin. “You are free, Jason. Nothing can stop you now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's not dead! Me! No, I've just got a new job in the last few months, and I'm working really hard and shit. Plus, we just moved and went without internet for a bit. :c


End file.
